Memoirs of a Mudblood Succubus
by DZAuthor AKA DZMom
Summary: Companion piece to Salubrious Snape Oil. This can be read by itself without reading the other. I am using a very different writing style in this and it is spoken from Hermione's point of view. This work assumes that you are familiar with the novels.
1. Prologue: Memory Gone Rogue

**July**** 16, 2011  
><strong>[Edited July 17, 2011]

This chapter was posted as "Meet the Master." It was a test run of Hermione's point of view.

Consider this chapter as a Prologue. It is written out of character for the innocent eleven-year-old Hermione. I'm keeping it because it may prove to be very useful at the end of the story.

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><p><strong>Warning:<strong> Swearing and foul language in this chapter.

Future chapters, if this story is continued, will involve sexual encounters. If you're only here for the sex scenes, it'd be best to just head on over to my other HP fic until young Hermione grows up quite a bit. She's not going to shag Severus any time soon.

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><p><strong>Memoirs of a Mudblood Succubus<strong>  
><em>A companion piece to Salubrious Snape Oil<em>_._

_**Prologue **_

**Memory Gone Rogue**  
><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**_Explanation_**  
><em>Neuropsychiatrists who study Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and similar ailments have discovered that memories are not stable. They can be changed. Every time a memory is recalled, it can be altered. Strong emotions, particularly negative ones that threaten our sense of well-being, create strong memories.<em>

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><p><strong><em>When Pessimism Changed Everything I Knew<em>**

This damn cauldron is fookin' heavy. Who the hell came up with the brilliant idea of breakin' kids backs with this pewter shit?

I nearly walked right off of those trick stairs. That would'a been a piggin' sight to see. Granger splattered on the castle floor. Too bad wizards are 'fraid of dogs. You'd think it'd be useful to have a Jezebel-licker around for catastrophic falls down seven stories.

Maybe that Filch bloke is a dog. Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris. Mum and Dad will be happy to hear that being magical really means living in my so-not-favourite movie, _The Adventures of Milo and Otis_. Pardon me while I spew my guts into my cauldron. It might come in handy after all.

Potter seems to know where he's going. The Weasley guy, well, he is cute in a way but he treats me like shit. I don't know what the fuck his problem is. Is it me? 'Cause I get the feeling that everyone pretty much wishes I'd just go home. '_Kinnell!_ Why'd I have to start thinkin' 'bout home right before class?

More stairs? Dungeons? Haven't they taken the castle motif just a bit too far? And it's cold as hell down here. I'd be pissy living down here if I was in Slytherin. Can you blame them?

How can these students show up for class without their cauldrons? They all got the shopping list. I really am the only one here with a cauldron. At least I will be prepared for class. Unlike Potter and Weasley. That red-head has an ugly scowl.

_Sigh_. I could really use a nap before going to the library. Is this class ever going to start?

So this is the dreaded Potions Master, blustering into the class late. A jaded man with a dark secret. That's my guess.

Damn, this guy can give a speech. "Foolish wand-waving" to "ensnaring the senses" … sign me up for the poetry club. "Bottle fame"? No, thank you. "Brew glory"? I'll pass. "Stopper death"? Sounds useful.

Oh, shit, no! Did he really just call me a dunderhead. Me and my classmates? This is war. I did not ride a stupid train and get into a dumb boat to attend an insane boarding school just to be called a dunderhead!

Oh, goody. Attendance. I wonder if drumming my fingers is annoying Weasley. Maybe I should paint my nails bright red. But I don't do nail polish. Hell, I didn't even brush my hair this morning. And I slept in my robe. As if you've never done that-

"Her … my … omy-"

The man delivers the greatest speech I've ever heard in my entire eleven years of life and then he can't even say a simple name from a Shakespeare play.

"Hermione," I correct Professor Snape.

Wrong move, I guess. What's with all the rotten moods at this school?

Oh. So now he goes after Potter. The "celebrity". Something doesn't add up, here. If he really thinks Potter should be treated like all the rest of us, why is he deliberately calling attention to him? I'm going to figure this one out. Mental worklist compiled. I'll fit it in somewhere.

Ooh, I know the answer to this question! I shall prove it: I am not a dunderhead. Great, he only wants Potter to answer.

Yes, I know this one, too. _Huff_. If I stretch my hand really, really high in the air … okay, maybe I can stand up a little bit. You know, half-stand, half-sit kind of thing … movement always catches a teacher's attention. Except not this guy.

Oh, thank you, Potter, for telling him I have my hand up. But no, he insults me?

Yes, I knew that answer. I knew the answers to all of those questions. If he would'a let me answer them … but, no. It's all about Potter. But I guess it should be that way. He is a celebrity. I have my own clipping collection just about him. I'll have to start one on this teacher, too. Maybe. If I have time. Like I ever have time. _Sigh_.

Finally. Class dismissed. Oh, not carrying the cauldron again. Damn it.

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><p><strong>Author Note continued:<strong>

Despite practically stealing the title from _Memoirs of a Geisha_, the story is unrelated to that novel, other than being written in first person. The storyline is based on my own Severus-centric fan fiction in progress, _Salubrious Snape Oil_. Here we find out Hermione's story (only so far as her relationship with Severus). Hermione narrates in a linear storyline, unlike _SSO_, in which she shows up in different ages and any damn time she pleases. In other words, in _Memoirs_, older Hermione won't show up until she's, well, _older_.

Most characters, settings and plot elements are based entirely upon J. K. Rowling's _Harry Potter_ novel series. Some original characters and plot will be introduced. This, like all my fan fiction, is written for pleasure, amusement and development of writing skills.


	2. To Be Alone

**July 17, 2011  
><strong>

Dear Reader, thank you for continuing to read my experimental take of Hermione's point of view. I haven't abandoned _SSO_; the next chapter is nearly ready to post. The plot of _Memoirs _will always be driven by chapters posted on _SSO_.

For the lucky few who have read Chapter 1 of _Memoirs_ already, the following notes may be of interest.

I have changed the title of Chapter 1 to** "**_**Prologue: **_**Memory Gone Rogue****" **and I added this **Explanation**:

_Neuropsychiatrists who study Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and similar ailments have discovered that memories are not stable. They can be changed. Every time a memory is recalled, it can be altered. Strong emotions, particularly negative ones that threaten our sense of well-being, create strong memories._

I added this header to the text of the Prologue (Chapter 1): **_When Pessimism Changed Everything I Knew_****_._**

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><p><strong>To Be Alone<br>Chapter 2**

"**To be adult is to be alone."** These words of the French biologist Jean Rostand torment me. They were the theme of the last essay I wrote in my last year of primary school. Mrs. Tibner said it was the most mature sixth year student essay she'd ever read.

I don't want to be alone.

At Hogwarts I am an adult. I know this because I have no one here. No friends to walk to classes with me. At this very moment I am walking to Double Potions alone. Just me and my pewter cauldron filled with brass scales, dragonhide gloves, glass phials, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and _Magical Draughts and Potions_.

The moving staircases were amusing the first day. Now they are nothing but a safety hazard while carrying books and supplies. If I fall to my death, I swear to haunt Headmaster Dumbledore until he installs lifts in the castle.

I am one of the first to reach the classroom. Three Slytherin boys got here before me. An arrogant boy with hair the color of mock champagne sneers at me. Draco Malfoy has been making a nuisance of himself since I first met him on the Hogwarts Express. His chums leer at me, no doubt because of my Gryffindor robe.

I sit alone in the front row. Neville comes to class. He gets worse treatment than me as he stumbles into the chair next to mine. The two of us are both alone. We are the adults, Neville and I. The rest of our Gryffindor classmates trickle in. They leave us alone in the front row, resigned to our loneliness.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are the last students to rush into the classroom, out of breath from running. The room is split in half like a watermelon, with Slytherins on one side and Gryffindors on the other. Good seeds versus bad seeds is the invention of a lazy mind. All the seeds have the same origin.

Ron shakes his red head in disappointment at finding no open seats on the Gryffindor side except the two at my table. Harry is a friendly sort of fellow. He sits closest to the two adults in the room.

The Potions Master blusters into the classroom. That's another adult in the classroom. We three are all alone.

I am alone until Professor Severus Snape says my name for attendance. He gets it all wrong.

"Hermione," I correct him.

He glares at me. His face is dangerous. Enraged. For a brief moment, a nanosecond, I am not alone. With the next heartbeat that feeling is gone. Neville and I are the only two left in the classroom who are alone now.

My professor taunts Harry like a school-yard bully. He casts aspersions on the Boy-Who-Lived and mocks his celebrity status. He quizzes Potter with questions that he doesn't want his students to answer. I know everything he asks. He ignores my raised hand until he reprimands me for wanting to respond to his last question.

I feel shame constricting my throat and making my mouth dry. I have never had a teacher who reproved me for wishing to answer a question. I must crack the enigma that is Severus Snape.

He begins his lecture. It is ethereal. His voice. His fervor. His poetry. He seduces my mind with his efficient words and breathtaking formulae. They intoxicate me until I am nothing but a quivering bowl of pudding who vows to never be called a dunderhead by the Master.

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><p><strong>Author Note, continued: <strong>

I am still trying to find Hermione's voice. I wrote Chapter 1 to avoid a literary style. Now I've relapsed. I wish to find a balance. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

Here's a not-short-list of issues that I might flub in characterization. These apply to SSO as well.

Hermione

- making her an idealist with fascinating personal insights instead of a girl who relies on indisputable facts  
>- making her preoccupied with emotional ties instead of reason and clear thinking<br>- not giving enough emphasis to her longing for relationships where people understand each other implicitly (example: the troll incident in Philosopher's Stone)

Severus

- capturing his system of immutable rules as the basis for his criticism of others  
>- lacing his dialogue with his unreasonably high expectations<br>- his unconscious need for spontaneous warm fuzzies  
>- his swings between denying himself and overindulging in sensory pleasure<p>

I am basing these characterizations on socionics. See _http:/ www. wikisocion. org/ en/ ?title=Wikisocion_home_ .


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